


The Next Step

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Flash Fic, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content, Inhumans (Marvel), Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Alternating, POV Phil Coulson, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Sokovia Accords, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6952543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy Johnson hears the news: the Sokovia Accords are no longer in force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Step

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/gifts).



> Flash fic written very fast to belatedly celebrate Skyson's birthday.

When she hears the news, 11 months, 3 weeks and 4 days after leaving SHIELD's base, Daisy can't quite believe it. She's in Ruthie's diner, in LA – not so much from a sense of nostalgia as because it's all she can afford – and there's a breaking news interruption to whatever dull morning show had been on. The woman at the counter (not Ruthie, despite the diner's name) immediately boosts the volume and Daisy listens with a sense of bewilderment and disbelief as the news reporter standing outside the White House tells the world that the Sokovia Accords are being dismantled, that Inhumans and other 'powered people' will be granted the same human rights as any other citizen, and she realises slowly that this means she no longer has to hide in the shadows, that she can go home. Not to the Playground, though it's been a home, but to Phil Coulson, the man she's loved for the last 4 years.

She feels a mixture of elation and relief at the realisation.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

Coulson stands in the crowd outside the White House as the President makes his official press statement to confirm that the Sokovia Accords are no longer in force, and wonders, not for the first time in the last few weeks of intense lobbying, negotiation, and blatant flattery, where Daisy is. Since the wind started blowing in the other direction, making it favourable to lobby for an end to the Accords, Coulson's had little chance to track Daisy's various appearances as Quake – he's been far too busy, and he's not even sure, right this minute, where he last saw her (he remembers the _when_ : 3 weeks and 2 days ago, at 11pm just as it was starting to rain. She'd kissed him goodbye – a brief, warm brush of her lips against his cheek before she walked away, leaving him lying on the bed in a safehouse to which she'd carried him from the street after he'd been hurt by a couple of the Watchdogs she'd been fighting. He'd got a dislocated shoulder and three cracked ribs to show for his efforts to help defend an old woman, a newly turned Inhuman, who'd been on the receiving end of the Watchdogs' attentions before he, and then Daisy, had shown up.

He wonders if Daisy's heard the news yet, and how long it will be before she gets in contact, or simply shows up out of nowhere.

Even as he's wondering, the skin on the back of his neck prickles, and he turns around slowly, scanning the crowd around him. His gaze seems to snag on a young woman at the back of the crowd: she's got long blonde hair and very large dark glasses, and is wearing a very sharp looking pantsuit with a white button-down beneath the jacket, and a skinny leather tie, and he feels as if his heart's stopped as she catches his eye and smirks before moving backwards, her eyes still fixed on his.

He goes after her, moving as swiftly yet casually as he can, and when he breaks free of the crowd, he spots her leaning up against the hood of Lola: the two of them are a frankly magnificent sight, he thinks, and he walks over to join her, trying not to break out into a big goofy grin.

"Phil," she says, and takes off the sunnies.

"Daisy," he breathes. "You look amazing."

She flushes a bit, but she also chuckles, and he thinks she appreciates the compliment. "You're not looking so bad yourself, sir," she says, her gaze openly appraising him as she takes in the light grey suit, the immaculate pale blue tie, his own sunglasses, and his giddy smile.

"Does this mean – ?" he begins, but gets no further because she reaches out, oh so casually, and tugs his body against hers, the grip on his jacket firm, and then her mouth is on his, kissing him relentlessly until they're both gasping for breath.

"It means I'm coming home, if you'll let me," she tells him, her hands still clasping the jacket's lapels.

"Let you?" he repeats incredulously. "I've been waiting for you."

"Good," she murmurs, and kisses him again, insinuating her leg between his, which makes him moan quietly into her mouth.

"Where are you staying?" she asks, once she releases his mouth again.

He gives her the address for the safe house he's been using.

"Is it okay – " she starts, and he cuts her off this time. 

"Yes, we can spend the night there before we head back to the Playground."

She nods, releases her grip to pat his lapels smooth, then gives him a sheepish smile. "I didn't meant to be that aggressive," she tells him.

"I _like_ you being aggressive," he tells her immediately.

That earns him a smirk, even as she blushes. "Let's go and be aggressive together, then," she suggests.

He chuckles, then fishes Lola's keys from his pants pocket. "You drive," he tells her, and is astonished, then worried, when she bursts into tears.

He immediately wraps his arms around her, trying to soothe her, and she calms down surprisingly quickly, apologising, then pushing him back slightly so she can fish some tissues out of her pants pocket.

"Sorry," she repeats.

"Don't be," he says again. "Are you okay to drive?"

She nods, taking a final swipe at her eyes, then accepting Lola's keys from him.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

It's about 10pm when Daisy wakes from her post-coital nap with an urgent need to pee, and a grumbling stomach that reminds her it's been a long day, and she's eaten nothing since her interrupted breakfast in LA.

Phil murmurs disapprovingly when she eases her body from his, but doesn't wake up immediately. She is washing her hands when he taps on the bathroom door, and she calls to tell him it's open.

"What do you want to eat?" he asks.

"I don't mind," she says immediately. "Uh, whatever's quickest, I guess."

He nods, and as soon as she's finished drying her hands, he reaches out and slides his hand into hers, then leads her downstairs to the kitchen: she's barefoot and naked apart from Phil's white button-down shirt, and he's wearing just the sweatpants he tends to sleep in, and she can't help thinking how embarrassingly domestic they look. But she's a romantic sap, so she doesn't care, and she gets the sense that Phil's totally over the moon about the situation.

She watches as he makes some grilled cheese sandwiches for her, resisting the urge to stand behind him and slide her arms around his waist, to slip her hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants so she can squeeze and stroke and fondle him until his cock's rock hard. She presses her thighs together, aware that she's ridiculously wet and aroused by the mental image in her mind.

There'll be time for that, she thinks, preferably when she's not as hungry as she currently is. The thought makes her shiver with delighted anticipation. For the first time in over a year she's actually looking forward to the future, and she can't help smiling widely at Phil when he carries over a plate stacked with grilled cheese sandwiches.

The next step is going to be the most exciting yet, she decides.


End file.
